


Priesthood Divine

by Fumblemore



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-06 16:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10339038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumblemore/pseuds/Fumblemore
Summary: Not everybody was taken with the Dragonborn when he saved the world. After all, power cannot exist without corruption.





	1. Chapter 1

“ANOTHER” the elf bellowed, slamming his tankard onto the table. His friends roared with laughter, the staff quickly pouring the finest Honningbrew mead. Only the best for their dearest Dragonborn.

“Ugh” she muttered under her breath, watching the scene play out. The ‘Dragonborn’. What a pompous title. She doubted he was capable of even seeing a dragon in the state he was in, not that there were many around anymore. The elf laughed, spinning on his heel to face his friends, shouting something unintelligible. 

She groaned again, growing more and more annoyed with the entire situation. She had travelled all the way from Riften to Whiterun to investigate the so-called Dragonborn, and all she had seen him do was drink all night, and stay inside all day. Tracking him had been difficult, sure, but the way he acted now made it seem like it should’ve been child’s play. Frankly, she was disappointed. 

The elf, the Dragonborn, rose to his feet, probably making his excuses to leave. The rabble that she assumed was his friends looked sorrowful, before saluting him. Some even hugged him. Why were they making such a fuss? He’d be back tomorrow, as he had been every night this week. He headed towards the door, stumbling slightly at the stairs to the door. She sighed, and clambered to her feet, exiting swiftly. 

The fresh air was a welcome contrast to the booze-filled, sweaty tavern she’d just left. She despised taverns, and the Drunken Huntsman was no different to all the rest. Some were wonderful, but this could not be included on that list. 

She followed the elf, darting from cover to cover. He wandered into Breezehome which, admittedly, was a quaint little home. The door hung open, either out of confidence or drunken stupidity. Either way, she wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. She crept to the door, using stealth techniques she’d had to learn growing up, and avoided the attention of the nearby guards. She stepped inside the cottage, her eyes widening at the interior.

Or rather, the lack of one. 

It was completely bare, the only pieces of furniture being a fire in the center of the room and some stairs off to the left. She stood there, for just a moment, before the door swung shut behind her and an arm closed around her throat. 

“You’ve been following me.” It was a statement, not a question. 

“Yes” she rasped, the grip on her throat tight. 

“Why.” he rumbled.

“I cannot say.” she gasped. 

There was a growl behind her, and the grip loosened slightly. That was all she needed. 

Her elbow swung into his stomach, winding him. She twisted out of the headlock, spinning on her heel, her other foot connecting with his chest and hurling him back. Before he could respond, she drew her daedric sword and held it to his throat. 

He stopped, and raised his arms, a cocky smirk rising on his face. “It appears I am at your mercy.”

“Damn right.” she snarled. “Now I’ll ask the questions.”

 

“By all means” he replied, the smirk still there. “But before you do, Zun Haal Viik.”

As he uttered that last word, her blade hurled itself out of her hand, clattering into the corner. His smirk expanded into a grin as she stepped back.

“So why are you following me?” he purred. 

“Personal interest.” she grunted, taking another step back. 

“Well if you insist on continuing to follow me, I’m headed to Solitude tomorrow. It’s about a day's ride to the north-west. I own a wonderful property up there, and I’m sure my wife would love to meet you.”

He then began to walk towards the stairs, apparently finished with the conversation. 

She hesitated for a moment. Before he reached the door to what she assumed was his bedroom, she called up to him. 

“People say you’re the hero of Skyrim. I don’t believe them.”

“Oh?” he called back, not turning around, “and why’s that?”

“Because you’re a killer, Dragonborn. And it’s only a matter of time before you turn on us. I will not allow that to happen.”

He stopped walking. “I would advise” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “You do not threaten me in my own home. And please, call me Silas. Dragonborn is a title, if you insist on using one, call me Thane.”

Before she could respond, he walked into his room, shutting the door behind him. 

She grunted, and left the building. Annoyed at herself for not knowing the Dragonborn was a Thane of Whiterun, she headed back to the Tavern, bent on finding out the truth, or at the very least, answering a burning question at the back of her mind. 

If the Dragonborn was Thane, where was his steward?

She strode into the Huntsman, grabbing one of the drunken idiots by the collar. 

“You” she shouted over the rabble. “You will answer my question, or I will hurt you.”

The drunk giggled. “You can ‘urt me any time, sweetheart” before collapsing into her arms. 

She grunted, and threw him aside. She stepped onto the table, and shouted at the top of her lungs. 

“Which one of you drunken fools can answer my questions about the Dragonborn?”

The tavern grew silent, and a woman stood up. She glared up at her, her warpaint only making her more intimidating. 

“Outside. Now!” she barked, and the two Nords marched outside, into the quiet. 

“What do you want?” she growled at her. “Why are you asking about Silas?”

The woman stared her down. “What is your name, first, and how do you know the Dragonborn?”

The other woman snarled. “I am Aela, the Huntress. I am a Companion, and Silas is one of us. Now, I will ask once more. What is it that you want with him?”

“He is too powerful to not be corrupt. There is so much that doesn’t add up. Where did all his coin come from? How come he’s been arrested so many times, only to be released several hours later? Why is his home here completely bare? He may have fought in the Civil War for the Imperials, but he was also a well known ally of Ulfric. He claims to be Thane of Whiterun, but where is his Steward? Something is wrong with him. And I intend to find out what.”

Aela simply glared at her. “From where do you hail, Traveller?”

“Riften.”

“Since childhood?”

“None of your concern.”

Aela simply grimaced, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her off. 

She twisted out of her grip, only for Aela to move faster than she could see, gripping her leather chestplate and yanking her on. She surrendered herself to this, fully aware she couldn't escape the Huntress’ grasp. 

They arrived at a graveyard, off to the side of the Temple. Aela let her go, throwing her forward. 

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You wanted to know what happened to his Steward.”

She looked around, spotting a grave marked “Lydia Njoll”. “She died?”

“She died for her Thane. He returns every year, to honour her sacrifice. He is an honourable and just man. There is no cause for your...concern.”

She squared her shoulders back, facing the Companion. “Power can’t exist without corruption. Your precious Dragonborn is not exempt to this rule.”

Aela scowled at her. “He is more to me than Dragonborn. He is the hero Skyrim needs, Traveller. You have one day to leave this city.” she finished, as she turned and began to walk away. 

“Are you threatening me, Aela?”

“You will not find friends when you accuse their leaders of corruption. You would do well to leave Whiterun by morning.”

And with that, she strode away, and was gone. 

The woman sighed, and leaned against a gravestone, too tired to consider the implications of offending the dead. She tried to be angry, annoyed, anything at the fact that so far, her suspicions were incorrect. The Dragonborn appeared to be the model hero, with no signs of corruption. 

But something still wasn’t right. 

She decided to take up his offer, and follow to Solitude. There, she would try a more tactile approach. She stood up, and began to walk to the other tavern on the other side of Whiterun, the Bannered Mare. There, she rented a room for the evening, ten gold being a welcome price to pay. The second she touched the bed, she was out, her mind swirling with dreams of corruption and nightmares of shadow.


	2. Chapter 2

When the morning came, she awoke to a Redguard standing over her bed. Her hand flew to her sword, still resting in its hilt. 

“What are you doing in here.” she demanded, and the Redguard took a step back, raising her hands.

“You need to leave, now. You managed to anger the Companions into acting against you, and there is a mob preparing to come here, right now, and execute you in your sleep.”

“Who are you.”

“I am Saadia. A long time ago, Silas defended me from assassins from my homeland. I owe him my life, and he wants you to leave the city alive.”

The woman frowned. “He wants me alive?”

Saadia smiled. “Yes, I believe he respects people who can go toe to toe with him in combat.”

The woman nodded, and got to her feet. Saadia practically sighed with relief, before the woman flicked her sword upwards, pressing the tip of the blade to her throat. 

“If this is an attempt on my life, I will not be the one bleeding on the floor” she murmured, her gaze flinty. 

Saadia swallowed, nodding furiously. 

The blade sung as it cut through the air, the woman sheathing it swiftly. “Then let’s go.”

The Redguard led her downstairs and through the kitchen. There, a grate was next to the fire where a rabbit and a pheasant were being slowly rotated by a child. 

Saadia lifted the grate up, revealing a dark, damp sewer system. “Take the second left. Straight on from there will lead to a small waterfall on the border of the city. The cart to the south will take you to any of the major holds. You’ll have to be fast, and hope the mob haven’t predicted this.”

The woman nodded, and didn’t say a word before dropping into the sewer, and the grate slammed shut behind her. 

\----

It was extremely dark. Darker than she originally thought. She focused slightly, mentally selecting a spell. Once she found it, she clenched her fist, a white light shining through the gaps in her fingers. The light grew stronger, and stronger, until her hand sprang open, an orb of light flying upwards and coming to a stop just above her head. It hovered there, gently, and she began to walk deeper into the sewer, the light following her. She allowed herself a small grin, her walk steady. 

The light cast shadows across the tunnel, the water flowing providing comfortable background noises. She continued to walk, the simple instruction shining clear in her mind as she thought about her next steps. 

Logically, following the Dragonborn anywhere was a terrible idea. He’d made it apparent that he knew the entire time she was tracking him, humiliating her and making her doubt her skills as, well, that. 

But there was still something that was so undeniably wrong about him. It was impossible he became this powerful and rich without doing something corrupt, something evil. 

She had to follow him, if only to find out what in the name of the Eight he was hiding from the world. 

She turned left, lost in her own thoughts, when a Skeever leapt up and tore into her face. 

Before it could attack her a second time, a blast of ice erupted from her hand, throwing the Skeever back a few feet. It staggered to its feet, only to be sliced in two shortly after. Her face was pulled into a tight grimace as she cleaned her blade. They were revolting little creatures, too large to be rats but just as disgusting. 

Her hand rose to her face, checking. No further wounds, just the same scars on her left cheek. She clenched her fist at the memories that swelled at the touch, and withdrew her hand swiftly. 

“At least” she thought to herself, by way of distraction, “my reactions are still sharp.”

She could make out a light up ahead, so she quickened her pace towards it. 

Another Skeever leapt out at her, only to be decapitated in a swift movement of her blade, the body and head landing with soft thumps. 

As she approached the light, she heard the roar of a waterfall, and she groaned. Of course, she’d have to go through a waterfall. Before she could dwell on it, she put a hand over her mouth and sprinted forward, her orb of light extinguishing immediately. 

She emerged into the early morning haze, the fog having rolled over from Windhelm. She could still see, barely, and she could just about pick out the stables. She sprinted over, her leather bound feet barely making a sound as she ran through the thrushes to the cart. As she reached it, the driver chuckled slightly as she breathed heavily. 

“Solitude” she gasped. 

“That’ll be fifty gold, lass.” he smirked.

She reached into her pockets, and threw a handful of coins at him. He nodded, a smile on his face. “Climb in back and we’ll be off.”

She clambered into the cart, making herself as comfortable as she could on the hardwood seats. Clearly, the gold made from these journeys did not go into the transport. There was a crack of the reins, and the cart began to move. The driver called back to her. 

“Wonderful city, Solitude. Capital of Skyrim, by all accounts. Rumour has it the Dragonborn married the Jarl. Be quite the couple, wouldn’t they?”

“I suppose” she replied, but her mind was already working. Marrying the Jarl of any Hold was a fast track method to power, but Elisif? High Queen of Skyrim? She swallowed. This investigation kept getting larger, more powerful, and it was starting to concern her. Not scare her in any way, just make her nerves jump slightly. 

The cart continued to trundle on, when she heard a deafening roar. 

“Odahviing!”

She shouted at the driver to stop and wait, leaping over the side of the cart. 

“I won’t wait forever!” he called after her as she sprinted to the source of the shout. She ignored him, and kept running. As she did, another roar echoed across the land, driving her to her knees. 

Panic filled her gut. She knew that roar. That roar meant death, blood, pain. A tear rolled down her cheek, memories swirling around her, biting, scratching, hurting. 

Behind her, the driver yelled the word she thought she’d never have to hear again.

“DRAGON!”

She pulled herself to her feet, drawing the daedric sword she had taken many years ago, and grasped it in her palm, walking forwards. In the distance, she saw the shape of a man, and the dragon slammed into the ground in front of him. 

“GET TO COVER!” she screamed at him, charging the winged beast with her sword. Before she could strike, the figure grabbed her and held her in place. 

“Hello again, Traveller” he whispered, and the woman realised that the Dragonborn had her at his mercy for the second time in twelve hours. She really was getting sloppy. 

“Why aren’t you killing it?” she spat.

“Why, because he’s mine of course” he chuckled, letting her go.

Her mouth dropped open as he pulled himself up onto its neck, grasping the horns protruding from its skull with his hands. 

“Fastest way to travel” he called, the woman still in a stupor at the sight of a tame dragon. When it was clear she wasn’t going to respond, he shouted “I want that caravan protected at all costs, understand?” 

She turned to see who he was shouting at, spotting a group of Khajiit near a caravan, saluting the Dragonborn. He squinted at them, before bellowing at the top of his lungs; 

“Hun Kaal Zoor!”

A heavily armoured spirit stepped out of thin air, turning and kneeling to Silas. He nodded and spoke to him in hushed tones, and it strode to the caravan, stepping onto the side and gripping the rope that hung there. 

“He will protect you on the travel. You should remain safe” he assured the Khajiit, and they nodded, mounting the caravan and beginning their journey. 

He then gestured to the woman, still stood there, staring at the beast he was riding. 

“Would you care to join me? This will be quicker than your cart over there.”

She hesitated, and he noticed. “Trust me, if you’re worried about me killing you, I would have done already. I have had countless opportunities so far, and my beast won’t attack you either, not as long as I breathe.”

She groaned. It would be the quickest way to Solitude, and would potentially lead to Silas trusting her enough to give her some sort of idea of what she’s dealing with. 

“Fine” she muttered, and pulled herself up onto its back, clutching Silas’ sides. 

“Before we go” he murmured. “May I ask your name?”

“Jase” she said, her voice sharp. “Jase Kjell”

“Pleasure to meet you, Jase Kjell” he replied, before giving a curt command, and the dragon leapt into the air, its wings beating heavily to hold the creature aloft. 

Behind them, the caravan began to trundle east. But Jase wasn't paying attention to that. She couldn't take her mind off the fact that they were flying, they were actually flying. She'd never felt anything like this, never moved this fast in all her years.

They soared across the skies of Skyrim, and she laughed as the dragon's roar echoed across the province.


	3. Chapter 3

They flew for only a few hours, before touching down at the border of Solitude. They dismounted the beast, and it immediately flew away, heading south. 

“Where does it go?” Jase wondered aloud, and SIlas chuckled, “He goes where he is welcome, with his brothers.”

“There are still other dragons out there?” she asked, and he nodded. “There are more than you realise, but with Alduin gone they prefer to stay hidden, understandably.”

She scowled. “You’re hiding dragons? You realise how dangerous that is for our people? They could attack at any time, they could be killing hundreds as we speak. And you allow this possibility?”

He stared at her, unmoving, before speaking slowly. “I am the only being left who can permanently kill them. Destroy their soul, prevent them from ever returning. They fear me, as well they should, and fear keeps them from attacking my people.“

She frowned at him, before nodding once and striding towards the Solitude gates. As she left, the Dragonborn swiftly followed, matching her pace easily. The walk was fairly short, but of course he insisted on making conversation. 

“I hear you had some issues with Aela last night”

“Her infatuation with you is dangerous. She does not see you with an objective eye.”

“I suppose that’s true, Aela was always untrusting of Travellers. But she is an exceptional woman, and an honourable one.”

“She attempted to have me killed. Some ‘honour’ she has.”

When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more intimidating. “She should not have done that, just as you should not have been insulting the Harbinger of the Companions. She is very well respected, and could just as ruin your reputation with no more difficulty than taking a breath. I would advise you be wary.”

Jase simply kept walking, overtaking Silas and calling back to him. 

“She should think twice before picking a fight with me.”

SIlas chuckled, and jogged to catch up with her. When they arrived at the tall gates of Solitude, they were greeted by two guards, both of which kneeled before the Dragonborn.

“Hail, Dovahkiin.” they uttered, their eyes glued to his feet. He laughed good-naturedly, before kneeling down to their level.

“Rise” he murmured, and they did so. He didn’t follow for a beat, instead kneeling to them. When he rose, he grasped both of their hands, and said; 

“You need not kneel to me. I should kneel to you. You give up almost all of your time to protect our people. That is the most honourable task a man can take.”

The two guards stood still for a moment, shocked, before nodding furiously and slamming their shields into the door, giving the signal to open. 

They swung open as Silas began to talk again, this time about the first time he came to Solitude. 

“They were executing a traitor, I remember it well. It was all anyone talked about while I was there. I think his name was Rognar, or Roggvir?”

“I do not care” Jase responded, and Silas chuckled. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason” 

She grunted, and walked through the now open gates. Almost immediately, she noticed that Silas attracted attention. People began to approach, thanking him, giving him gifts, hugging him. It was like Llewellyn, the Bard, had arrived, but with a lot less music. 

She groaned again, and strode on, locating anywhere she could stay. There was the tavern at the entrance, something that she considered to be a contingency plan. There had to be an empty house or something here, a city like this had to have a slum of sorts she could hide out in. 

She kept looking around, deciding to march up a curved slope as the Dragonborn continued to be welcomed into Solitude. She reached the end of the path and glanced down at him, smirking as the people fawned. 

Before she could turn and walk away, Silas called up to her. 

“Dinner is in an hour. I would ask you do not disappoint my wife, she can be very vindictive when she wants to be!” he finished with a smile, before turning to one of the guards. His mouth moved, barely a sound leaving his lips, and the guard nodded once, and began to march towards her. 

Jase felt the slight tingle settle at her fingertips, sensing approaching violence as the guard strode up the slope to her. She rested the her palm on the hilt of her blade, glaring at the Guardsman. He stepped closer still, and she breathed in, her palm gradually emitting a fine white mist as she prepared a blast of ice. 

The guard walked past, headed straight for the castle through the archway behind her, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. She didn't want to be thrown out, not yet. 

She followed the guard, but turned to the courtyard that stood before the castle, searching for somewhere she could spend the night. She spotted another turning, and began to walk towards it, before one of the people fawning over Silas came up behind her, grabbing her. 

She spun to face them, gripping their wrist and twisting it around to their back, pinning them in position. The man cried out, and she responded, her voice stony;

“What do you want.”

“Nothing, nothing!” he cried, blubbering slightly. “I swear! I just wanted to know how you knew Silas!”

She grunted, releasing him. He stumbled to the ground, looking up at her, tears swelling in his eyes. 

“This really is the lap of luxury. You’ve never been in combat before, have you?”

He shook his head violently, a tear spilling over onto his cheek. She sighed, before apologising. 

He nodded, still looking at her as he rose to his feet, backing away slowly. After he got a few feet away, he turned and ran, sprinting down the slope and straight into the tavern. 

She continued on her trip, but the second archway bore no fruit, leading her to some sort of district, with tall, beautiful houses stacked together, all the way to what she assumed was the fabled Blue Palace. She groaned again. It was looking increasingly likely that she’d have to sleep in a tavern again, unless...

She supposed that as opportunities go, she hadn’t had many better ones. The man she was investigating seemed to trust her, maybe even like her. There was certainly ways she could play that to her advantage. She made the decision there to attend this ‘dinner’, and find a way to subtly let them know she needed a place to stay, and from there it had to be plain sailing. 

Until then, however, she had to find something to do. An hour to kill, and a city full of people to interrogate the infamous Dragonborn. 

“Shouldn’t be too difficult” she murmured. She turned her back on the district, and began to head back to the town square, back at the entrance. On her way, she passed Silas, who didn't acknowledge her, instead grimacing as the guards relayed information to him, before he strode into the castle the guard entered earlier. She made a mental note to find out about that later, either from Silas himself or one of the guards. 

She turned to continue heading to the square, as the tavern was there, probably full of old friends of Silas if her latest encounter was anything to go by. 

First, however, she wanted to talk to the beggar. Usually good sources of information, and ridiculously cheap as well. She marched down the slope, following the curve, and approached the beggar. He sat opposite the tavern, interestingly named the “Winking Skeever”. She shrugged, and approached the man, sitting opposite him on the path. 

He looked up at her, his eyes sunken. “Spare a coin for an old veteran?” he croaked, shaking a battered leather helmet at her. For a brief moment, she was catapulted back there, before shaking her head and smiling at him. 

“Of course” she said as she pulled some gold pieces from her pouch, depositing them in the helm. A smile broke out on his face, revealing horrific, yellowed teeth, and she smiled back. 

“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” she requested politely, and he nodded quickly, smile still on his face. 

“Thank you” she bowed her head to him, before continuing; “Did you hear that the Dragonborn is in Solitude?”

The man nodded again, and his smile grew at the mention of him. Before she could ask, he launched into a tale about how Silas had helped him years ago. 

“He went and got my helmet back, do you see? I wore this on the battlefield, so many years ago. So many people simply turned their back on me, refusing to help, and why wouldn’t they? They had no reason to help a poor, drunken beggar, but then he arrived, and one of the first thing he does? Offers to go and retrieve my helmet from the ass-end of nowhere! That man is too good for this world, and I bet if you go to all nine Holds they’ll say the same” he finished, the grin never leaving his face. 

She nodded, and prepared her next question. 

“Do you know if he’s done anything particularly...unscrupulous?”

The smile dropped, switched for a look of confusion. “What do you mean?” the beggar rasped. 

Her voice dropped, to barely a whisper. “I heard he had dealings with the Thieves Guild, and maybe even the Dark Brotherhood. There are rumours that every month he terrorises small towns as some sort of beast, preying on the isolated and alone. Do you hear anything like that?”

The beggar shook his head violently, his voice a whine. “No, no no no. That can’t be true, it isn’t possible. Silas is a good man!”

She nodded, taking sympathy on the beggar. He clearly didn't know anything, so she rose to her feet, preparing to leave.

“I suppose I must be wrong. Enjoy your evening, um...?

“Noster. Noster Eagle Eye.” he responded, not making eye contact, the smile well and truly gone. 

She didn't say another word, just turned to face the Winking Skeever, and sighed. She always seemed to end up in taverns, she thought as she walked towards it. 

Maybe this time something good will actually happen.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing that hit her when she entered the building was the music. It was incredible, but sadly predictable. In her research on all the Capitals of the Holds, she learned that Solitude held the bards college within its walls, so it stood to reason that their music would be the most beautiful in Skyrim.

The second thing that hit her was how full of life it was. There was already a large group of people celebrating, calling out phrases like “The Dragonborn has returned!” and “May Silas find everything he desires!” and such. Honestly, she was disappointed. Clearly, the infatuation was widespread, except...

And that was the third thing she noticed. One man was off to the side, clad in nobleman’s clothes, scowling at the party. There were two empty bottles of mead on the table, a quick glance confirmed they were imported from the Rift, the Black-Briar symbol advertising his wealth for all to see. 

The party, for the most part, was ignoring him, which made it all the more enticing to approach him. She headed to the bar, tossing a few coins at the bartender and grabbing two bottles of the famous Solitude Spiced Wine, before heading to this lonely nobleman. 

She sat across from him, slamming one of the bottles in front of him. He looked over at her, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks stained. 

“What?” he grunted, and she smiled at him. 

“I wanted to share a drink with the only other sane man in this whole city”

He looked at her, wary, before taking the wine and downing it, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand afterwards. 

“Drinks ‘ppreciated” he slurred, and she smiled at him again. “Whadda ya want with me”

She raised an eyebrow. “I want the truth about the Dragonborn.” she leaned in, her voice lowering. “All these people are too infatuated to see it. Something isn’t right about him”

The man looked around, suspicion in his eyes. “Who are you with? Are you with the Blades? Answer me!”

“I am here on my own” she lied, omitting the truth of how she arrived with Silas and was apparently expected to eat with him later. The man nodded, apparently trusting her.

“My name is Aquillius Aeresius” he told her, before dropping the bombshell. 

“I think the Dragonborn killed the woman I love”

She grabbed his arm. “What happened?”

The nobleman sighed, closing his eyes. “Years ago, Vittoria and I were deeply in love. Like children, we spent every waking moment together. Then it became...apparent, that she would need to marry someone of a different house, to link the Empire with more powerful families. We came to an agreement of sorts. She would marry Asgeir Snow-Shod, but only in title. The weeks leading up to the wedding she appeared excited to everyone who asked, but when she was home she was different. I was worried the wedding was having a more adverse effect that we originally thought. And then...” 

His breath hitched in his throat, and he choked back a sob. 

“The wedding came. And she was killed, in front of everyone, in the middle of her speech” he finished with a cry, slamming his fist into the table.

Jase patted his shoulder, unsure how to comfort him. He then leaned in, the sobs apparently contained. 

“I saw the assassin. He bore the colours of the Dark Brotherhood. I would’ve chased him, but I didn’t need to. I saw him enter Silas’ house, for only a few moments, before leaving and sprinting for the gates. He escaped Solitude, and I think Silas was the one who paid him to kill Vittoria” he finished, his eyes shining with fury. 

She nodded. “I knew something was wrong with him. So you think he was the one who orchestrated the death of...Vittoria?”

Aquillius nodded furiously, his fist clenched. “Are you gonna do something about him?” he asked, and she nodded.

“As soon as I get enough evidence against him, I want to make him admit to his crimes, to the things he’s done” she growled, and that was good enough for the nobleman.

“I hope I helped” he said, and she smiled at him, dropping a few gold coins on the table. 

“For your troubles” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. 

That was fruitful, she thought to herself as she left the building. So Silas did have dealings with the Dark Brotherhood, something she had suspected but hadn’t confirmed until now. However, the word of a drunkard wouldn’t hold much sway, but he wore the colours of a nobleman. Perhaps he would be useful. The Brotherhood was notorious for murder, dealing it to anyone they were asked to, if the price was high enough. She’d encountered one, long ago, but they’d vanished into the shadows before she could give chase. 

She walked past Noster, barely giving him a glance, and headed to the Castle she saw Silas entering earlier. Her curiosity had been piqued by the sombre expression she’d seen on his face, the first time he’d been anything less than cocky and confident. She reached the doorway, the sign reading Castle Dour.

“Halt” one of the guards barked. “What brings you here?”

“I have business with Silas.” she stated, deciding honesty would be the best method here. 

The guard squinted at her, clearly running the risks in his head. He gave a single nod, holding out his hand.

“Your blade” he demanded bluntly. She sighed and untied the scabbard hanging from her waist, and handed it over. The guard gestured behind him, and she marched in. Through the door was a simple foyer, with several guards at each doorway, the middle one leading to a table with a huge map sprawled across it, with several Imperial Legates inside, along with Silas and the famous General Tullius, leader of the Imperial Army in Skyrim. 

She walked in, and was immediately overwhelmed by the anger in each person’s voice. 

“We can’t afford to spare the resources, Silas! This threat you claim is approaching is one you assured us was defeated!” the General bellowed.

“I’m not asking you to send a whole damn legion, Tullius! I just need a detachment to investigate Solstheim! Something is clearly wrong over there, they haven’t been trading with Windhelm in weeks!” Silas shouted back. 

“We have more important threats to deal with! Vampires are terrorizing the Pale, and their attacks appear to be heading south. Do you want them to grow strong enough to attack Dawnstar, Whiterun, maybe even right here, in Solitude?!”

The Dragonborn covered his face, exhaling loudly. “Vampires are a problem, I admit that” he said, his voice quieter than a shout. “And something should be done. But I need to have Solstheim investigated.”

“We can’t spare the men, Dragonborn” Tullius replied, his voice soft. One of the Legates stepped forward, agreeing with the General. 

Silas groaned, flopping onto a chair. Tullius gave him a sympathetic look, before turning and spotting Jase. 

He took a step back, drawing his sword. “Guards!” he called, “who is this intruder?”

Silas turned, and leapt to his feet. “Don’t worry, Tullius, she’s with me. Kind of. Well, she’s ‘investigating’ me, but I’m working to convince her that I’m a good person”

The General eyed her up. “This is the one your second complained about? What was her name, Aela?”

Silas growled slightly. “She is not my second. She is Harbinger of the Companions.”

Tullius snorted. “Silas, the only reason she’s in that position is because you gave it to her. Everyone in the Nine Holds with half a brain knows that position is yours, just like everyone knows that you are the true Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Just because you keep delegating the roles to other people doesn’t stop people from seeing you as a hero, a leader.”

The Dragonborn’s face had gradually become more and more sour as the General continued. When he finished, a dark scowl had settled over Silas’ face. When he spoke, his voice was low, carrying an undercurrent of emotion Jase couldn’t quite detect.

“Do not presume that I want to be any of those” he snarled. “If you aren’t going to give me the soldiers, I will take my leave.”

He turned and strode to the exit, as Jase stood there, confused. The Legates vision turned to her, settling with a dark glare, and she hurried after him, not wanting to be there long enough to be arrested. 

He burst through the door to Dour, nearly knocking it off its hinges as the guards saluted him. 

She ran after him, grabbing him on by the arm, spinning him around. 

“What’s in Solstheim?” she demanded, and he looked at her with confusion. 

“What happened to not trusting me?” he purred, his anger all but forgotten.

She scowled; “I can put that aside for the good of the people. Doesn’t mean I won’t be watching you, though.”

“Are you offering to come with me? Quite a leap to make there, I might not even go now I don’t have the men.”

She sighed. “Someone like you, you already have another plan. You probably came here with that plan already, but just had to check if the easy option was available.”

He grinned. “You do notice a lot. Very good, Jase, very good.” As he finished talking, he began to walk towards the housing district. She groaned, and followed after him. 

“Where are you going?” she called after him, and without turning around, he responded. 

“It’s time for dinner, Jase. Don’t you remember the invitation?”

She groaned again, and followed him to his house. He swung the door open, exaggerating the action immensely. 

“Welcome to Proudspire Manor! One of the finest houses in my possession! I think you’ll enjoy your stay!”

“My...stay?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. I know how difficult it is to find somewhere to stay for the night, so feel free to take my spare bed! The children are at my manor in Falkreath, so you’ll be spoilt for choice!”

She hesitated, before walking in. They appeared to be in the lower area of the house, with an alchemy lab and enchanting table to the left, and a closed door to the right. She went to open it, only for Silas to dart over, standing in the way.

“This room is still waiting to be renovated. It looks horrific, trust me” he smiled, and she nodded, mentally noting the fact that she would have to break into that later. 

The stairs were at the end of the corridor, making a criss-cross pattern upwards. They walked up, the first floor revealing a quite spacious area, with a fire in the corner and a dining table with several seats set up opposite it. At the table sat two women, one in plated armour and the other in regal noble clothes. The first one, she didn’t recognise. The second one, however, was someone known across the entire province.

She was the High Queen, Elisif the Fair of Solitude. 

Her mouth dried up and she couldn’t speak. She’d never been in the presence of such royalty before. She barely counted Silas as a person, much less a celebrity, but this was the High Queen.

Elisif heard them behind her, and wandered over, pulling Silas in for a deep kiss. When they broke apart, she turned to face Jase, gripping the Dragonborn’s arm.

“Who’s this, love?”

Silas grinned slightly. “This is that girl I sent I told you about in that letter, Jase. The one who’s convinced I'm ‘evil’ or something”

Elisif smirked at her. “Welcome to our house, Jase. Trust me, my husband is one of the heroes of Skyrim. He practically won the Civil War for us.”

The armoured woman with blonde hair got up as well, eyeing Jase with distrust. She stuck a hand out, and Jase took it, her arm violently pumped up and down. 

“I am Jordis Sword-Maiden, Steward of Silas.” she barked, and Jase nodded. She turned to face Silas, saying; “So this one survived then?”

In that instant, she knew she’d said the wrong thing. The small smile that had settled onto his features following seeing his wife dropped, replaced with a scowl and narrowed eyes. When he spoke, it was intimidating, his voice low.

“Do not speak of that. It is a sure method of making me angry.”

Jase grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, which seemed to be good enough for Silas. He turned to face his Steward, asking if he’d received any letters or packages while he was away. Jordis nodded, and walked to the door, retrieving a thin letter from the shelf beside it. 

“This arrived yesterday.” she said as she handed it over, before returning to her seat. Silas delicately unfolded the letter, his eyes devouring the words on the page. As he did so, his expression grew more and more sombre. He closed his eyes as he folded the page, turning and leaning on his wife’s shoulder. Jase suddenly felt very awkward, as if she were witnessing something too intimate.

Elisif stroked his hair, fingers running through the thick mane. “Hey” she cooed. “Forget about the rest of Skyrim, just for tonight. Have a meal with me, spend the night, don’t leave before I wake. I know you have to leave tomorrow, but please, for tonight, let’s just let the world fend for itself”

Silas nodded, drawing himself up to his full height. “Of course, wife. Tonight, I shall focus only on you” he murmured, his hand coming to rest on her waist. A light tinge of red bloomed on her face, before she moved the hand, giggling slightly, whispering something about later. Jase gagged, the obvious affection her making her queasy. She walked away, purging the images put in her head by planning her next move for the evening. 

After the dinner, it was obvious what the couple intended to do. She stopped herself thinking too much about it, and decided she would have to wait until the house was asleep. Then, she was confident enough in herself that she’d be able to sneak downstairs and check the room he hadn’t let her see. 

Divines only know what could be in there. She let her imagination run wild, picturing dark artifacts, shrines to ancient Daedra, perhaps even missives and scripts from the Dark Brotherhood, or at least the Thieves Guild. 

She wandered to the staircase, and decided to head up to the top floor. Once she reached the top, she could see a rather small area with two doors, one on each side. She assumed one was the parents bedroom, and the other was the children’s. In between the two stood a table, with a map of the province splayed across it. There was a dagger lodged in an area to the south of Falkreath, and the top right corner, near Solitude, had been burned. It was possibly meaningless, but she shelved the information for investigation later. 

She saw an apple to the side of the map, and grabbed it, crunching down. She savoured the taste, it had the flavour of one from Elsweyr, homeland of the Khajiit. Sour, crunchy, delicious. 

She swallowed the mouthful, and took a step to one of the doors. She nudged the door with her foot, taking another bite of her apple, and saw that this room was the children's. There was a training dummy on one side of the room, with two perfectly made beds coming out of the opposite wall, each with a long chest at the foot. She nodded, acknowledging the fact that this would be her room for the night, before leaving the room, the door squeaking shut behind her.

She walked over to the second door, pushing it open with her palm. It revealed a large double bed at the centre of the room, but that wasn’t what her attention was on.

In the centre of the wall opposite the bed stood a plinth, and upon it was mounted three blades. The blade to the left’s hilt shone with a bright white light, something she’d never seen before. The blade in the middle had a red hue that danced across the entire sword, a thin line of deep red energy decorating the middle of the blade. The blade to the right was vastly different to the other two, instead appearing to be alive with thick black tentacles swirling around the entire object. All three of them floated above the plinth, which appeared to have some sort of shield mounted on it, and looked incredible. They were all clearly impossible rare artifacts, unique in every respect of the word. She stared in awe at the swords. 

Without her even thinking, she reached out to touch one of them. Her hand drifted to the black blade, and the tentacles, sensing something living, reached out to her as well. Just before they connected, Silas burst through the door, knocking her arm down. Before she could ask, he slammed a palm into the shield at the base of the plinth, and energy filled the area between the blades and her, forming a thin barrier close to the wall. Almost immediately, the desire to grab the black blade flooded out of her, and she shook her head, confused. She turned to Silas, raising an eyebrow.

“The Shield, Spellbreaker, has been faltering lately. Normally it’s safe enough to keep in the house, but these weapons will be moved to a safer location shortly. Please, stay away from them for now.” 

She nodded, before speaking; “What are they?”

He smiled slightly. “The white one is Dawnbreaker. Meridia gifted it to me after I cleansed her temple. It's a symbol of hope for the living, allegedly, and burns the undead. The red one is a sword pulled from a ruin in Solstheim. I can’t explain why, but with every swing comes a wave of energy. As far as I’m aware, it's the only one of its kind.”

He took a breath, as if preparing his words. 

“The black one is Miraak’s. The Dragonborn before me. He was corrupted, and I destroyed him.” he sighed, bowing his head. 

Jase looked at him, before turning to pull open the wardrobe. May as well check for more hidden artifacts, she thought.

The doors revealed a dusty metal mask, painted with a blue hue. She could sense the raw magicka from where she was, and there was no mistaking the grooves carved into the metal. 

It was one of the Dragon Priests masks.

It was placed not so delicately with a pile of worn robes, which she recognised as the Arch Mage’s. She turned, her mouth open, ready to ask questions, before Silas strode to her, slamming the door with a shove. Before she could utter a word, he murmured; “That life is behind me. Do not speak of it, please.”

He looked at her which such startling pleading, she was taken aback by the sudden character change. She found herself nodding before she realised, and he thanked her before ushering her out of his room, politely asking her to head down to dinner. She finished her apple with a crunch, tossing it out of a cracked open window, before following the Dragonborn downstairs to the dinner table. 

Placed at the centre of the table was a large slab of finely sliced beef, and dotted around it was bowls of vegetables and herbs. She gave a small smile, realising that this was enough food to feed a banquet. Silas sat down at the head of the table, with Elisif to his left. Jordis stood at the door, arms crossed and eyes focused on Jase. She ignored her, and chose to sit down opposite the elf. Silas looked up at her from his meal, and smiled.

“You must have plenty of questions left, Jase. Feel free to ask as many as you like.”

Elisif nodded to her, her face open and kind. Jase swallowed a mouthful of beef, before asking the question that had been on her mind for a long time.

“Why was your house in Whiterun empty?” 

Silas glanced up a Jordis, before answering the question. “Well, to answer that you must know that I own many properties across Skyrim. Myself and Elisif share this house, and she uses it while she is working in Solitude as Jarl. I also own the Breezehome in Whiterun, as you saw, and Hjerim in Windhelm. Nasty bit of business occurred there before I bought the place, but it’s all cleaned up. However, none of them are my home. My home, where my children are right now, is the manor I built myself on land in Falkreath. My Steward for Falkreath is stationed there for now. It’s also the safest of all my properties, which is why I cleared out the Breezehome.”

He paused, taking a swig from the goblet in front of him, before continuing. 

“You see, in my travels I have collected a great many...artifacts. Some you saw upstairs, and some I have dotted around Skyrim. Some, like Dawnbreaker, I had to do good things for. Others...well, we all have regrets. Now, with the rising threats of vampires and whatever is happening in Solstheim, I have made the decision to move them all to safer locations. My manor, Lakeview, is built near a summoning circle, and I long since performed the enchantments to summon Atronachs when anyone I haven’t given permission to enter the lands, enters my land. So far, dozens of assassins and bandits have died to them, so much so it's common knowledge in Falkreath hold to steer clear of my home.”

Jase nodded, captivated by the story. She raised an eyebrow, asking if it was okay to ask another. Silas gave her a short nod, and she spoke again. 

“How did Lydia die.” she said. Blunt, straight to the point.

Elisif choked on her drink, before composing herself. “Now, I don’t think Silas should answer such personal questions” she said, her voice gaining a slight edge. 

Silas placed a hand on his wife’s, and whispered to her. Jase was too far away at her end of the table to make out what he said, but she could pick out the words “trusted” and “next”. 

He turned to face her, this time downing his goblet of wine before speaking. Clearly, whatever it was, it wasn’t good. 

When he spoke, his voice wavered slightly, but the point of the statement didn’t go amiss.

“I killed her.”

“What?” she asked. The Dragonborn killing his Steward? Why wasn’t that news all across Skyrim? This could be part of the proof, she thought. She knew something was wrong with him, and she could feel this being a big part of that.

“I was hunting for an Elder Scroll.” he continued, voice still trembling ever so lightly. “I needed one to return to Alduin’s first incarnation, to learn Dragonrend. Me and Lydia, we were deep underground, battling Falmer and Dwemmer constructs. Back then, I was younger. Simpler. I saw power, and I took it. It’s why I took to magic so fervently. I was a natural. You probably heard the legends. I mastered all the schools of magic in the time it takes a normal person to become an adept in one of them. And the destruction school did always come too easily.”

He trailed off, snapping a finger. Immediately, Jordis filled his goblet, and he chugged that one back as well. 

“I didn’t think. I lead her into that ruin, I ordered her into combat. I didn’t even realise what was going to happen.”

He choked slightly, Elisif immediately grasping his hand tightly. 

“She was set ablaze by a firestorm I created.”

Inwardly, Jase flinched. That kind of magic was incredibly powerful, and if Silas still had access to the master spells, there wasn’t much anyone could do against him. Before the self doubt could creep any further into her, Jase pushed it aside, replacing it with faith in herself. She’d killed a giant, for Talos’ sake. What could Silas do?

The Dragonborn continued, unaware of Jase’s inner monologue.

“She died in my arms, severe burns covering her body. Her screams filled my ears as her armour melted to her skin. I pulled her from that hell hole, using whatever magic I deemed necessary. I took her home, to Whiterun, and immediately fled to Winterhold to renounce the destruction school and my position as Arch Mage. Tolfdir holds it now, like Aela holds the position of Harbinger. I gave that up as well, when I realised that my leadership had gotten Lydia killed.”

“So when Tullius said that everyone knows that you are the true leader of these Guilds, he meant it literally?”

“Yes. But he’s wrong. I cannot return to those positions. Never again.”

Jase nodded. So he hadn’t intentionally killed her. With every encounter with Silas, she felt herself becoming more aligned with everyone else. He didn’t appear to be up to anything untoward, but then she remembered the conversation she’d had in the tavern. 

She looked down the table at him, preparing her next question. 

“And how did Vittoria Vici die?”

For a brief moment, panic danced across Silas’ face. Got you, she thought, as the panic vanished as quickly as it had arrived. 

Elisif responded this time; “Why, she was assassinated at her own wedding of course. Surely you heard about that?”

Jase nodded, not taking her eyes off the Dragonborn. Elisif continued, as if not noticing the rising tension in the room. 

“And of course, when her cousin came to visit and was promptly murdered in his ship’s quarters, that also stirred up the news.”

Jase’s stare flicked over to Elisif. “I’m sorry, her cousin?”

“Why yes” said Elisif, this time the edge in her voice becoming very apparent. “The Emperor. He was killed on our very shores. A Dark Brotherhood assassin broke into the ship, murdering everyone, before striking down the Emperor of Skyrim” she finished, spitting the last words like they left a bad taste. 

Silas looked down at his plate, something etched into his features. Jase mentally noted that down, before continuing the conversation with Elisif. 

“I heard that the new Emperor was actually more efficient than the last one. Didn’t he severely reduce the Argonian and Dark Elf stigma?”

Elisif leaned back, nodding. “Yes, that is true. He has done wonders for the Empire. I just, I can’t help but be angry at that assassin. Yes, things are a lot better now, but there was years of turmoil leading to the selection of the new Emperor.”

Jase nodded to herself, noticing the plates were empty. Clearly, they’d been talking longer than they realised. 

Silas looked up at her from his plate, words already forming on his mouth.

“And how about you, Jase? Where did you come from, if you hadn’t heard about all this?”

Jase swallowed. “I came to Whiterun from Riften.”

“I assume you haven’t lived there your whole life?”

Jase looked away, her voice low. “No. I didn’t.”

She could feel Silas’s gaze on her, and she turned to face him, squaring her shoulders. He looked as if he were about to ask something else, but he instead stayed quiet, potentially picking up on her discomfort.

He rose to his feet, reaching over and collecting everyone’s plate. “Thank you for joining us, Jase. I hope I gave you the answers you seek.”

Jase smiled, her mind flashing back to the nervous expression on his face earlier. “Yes, you did.”

Silas looked at her oddly, raising an eyebrow, before taking the plates to a nearby sink. Elisif glanced at her, before rising to her feet, making an exaggerated yawn. 

“I think it’s time I retire” she said to her, Jase barely acknowledging her. She gave a “harumph” in Jase’s direction as she took several long strides to the staircase, before disappearing up to the top floor. 

Silas placed the plates delicately on the side, before turning to Jase and wishing her a goodnight, as well as apologising for the earlier question. This surprised Jase, where she came from you said your mind and to hell with the consequences. Having someone apologise for something that wasn’t even that bad threw her off, so she just stood there for a beat, before responding in kind. The Dragonborn then shook her hand, asking her to get plenty of rest before the long journey tomorrow, and disappeared after his wife. 

In all honesty, she had completely forgotten she would be leaving tomorrow to travel with him. What with all the questioning and digging she’d been doing, it’d slipped her mind completely. She realised that no, she would probably not get the plenty of rest he requested.


	5. Chapter 5

As the evening grew dark, and Jordis began to light the fires around the house, Jase could hear some heavy grunting coming from the couple's bedroom. Before she could even begin to think about what could be happening behind the door, she walked out of the children’s room and headed downstairs, her footfalls impossible to hear. The Steward was leaning against the doorframe on the main floor, looking somewhat relaxed but her hand rested on the pommel of her sword. The sight made Jase reach for her own blade reflexively, only to discover she’d left it with the guard several hours ago. She cursed herself inwardly for making such a rookie mistake, before crouching and sneaking past the armoured Nord. 

She made it down the stairs to the bottom floor, and stood to her full height, darting towards the doorway. She grabbed the handle, pushing slightly, and the door stayed still. She put more power into it, and it still didn’t give way. Locked, but luckily she didn’t need a sword to deal with that. 

A thin white mist began to rise from her hand as she readied her destruction magic. A thin blast of cold air flooded forward, coating the door handle in a thick layer of ice. She maintained the pressure, pouring magicka into it, and she could hear the lock cracking. She cut off the magic, and slammed her foot into the door. As she did so, her magic launched ice from her other palm, forming a wall between her and the exit. As the door shattered, the wall blocked the sound from reaching the ears of the Steward. She grinned slightly, and wandered inside. 

She was expecting something dark, like defiled corpses, a uniform of a cult, missives and payments from illicit organisations. Instead, it was designed similarly to the bedrooms upstairs, with a ruffled green duvet on top of a single bed. There was a shelf to the left and a wardrobe next to that, but the rest of the room was bare. She turned to face the wall opposite the bed, and could only spot two glowing red eyes before being knocked to the floor faster than she could react. She looked up at her assailant, who had drawn an ornate elven dagger and was pointing it at her. 

The woman who knocked her down had dark, raven hair, and was shrouded in a deep black cowl. Her armour was a dark crimson, with bits of grey decorating the design. She wore a bizarre amulet around her neck, and her palm crackled with red energy. But Jase’s attention was swiftly captured by her eyes, which shone a bright red and glared at her with such intensity she nearly looked away. 

“Who are you.” she demanded, the dagger staying steady. 

Jase didn’t respond, instead rising to her feet and spitting on the ground. “You’re a vampire. Silas is hiding you, probably from his own General. He’s helping your filth, the vermin that is your kind, isn’t he?”

The vampire snarled at her. “How do you know Silas?”

“He wants me to help him, simply because I beat him in a fight. I don’t trust for one second that he is as good as he claims to be, however.”

 

The vampire snarled again, her fangs gleaming in the dim light. Jase refused to be intimidated, instead readying another blast of ice. Before she could unleash it, Silas burst through the ruins of the door, sprinting in between the two of them. The vampire, the vermin, continued to snarl at her, but stepped back. She dissipated the magic from her palm, before stepping back as well.

Silas sighed, lowering his arms. “You weren’t supposed to look in here, Jase.”

She ignored him, instead going straight for the accusation. “You’re hiding vampires from the Imperials. Why.”

Silas sighed again. “I don’t ‘hide’ vampires. I just let my friends stay with me when they need to. This is Serana. My best friend.”

Jase looked past the Dragonborn at the vampire. She’d stopped growling, now fixing her with a cocky smirk. She frowned slightly. 

“You befriended a beast? A monster?”

Serana’s smirk dropped in favour of a frown, her eyes growing more vibrant as a low grow escaped her throat. Silas placed a hand on her shoulder, before continuing. 

“I have befriended far more than one. Vampires are a threat, and most of them followed similar ideals to Harkon. But not all of them are, well, evil, just like not all werewolves are beastial creatures. Serana can be trusted.”

“Who was Harkon?” Jase asked, her gaze still fixed on the vampire. 

“Serana’s father. Insane, hell bent on fulfilling some ancient prophecy to blot out the sun and make vampires all powerful. We stopped him, me and Serana.”

Jase did not trust this woman one bit. Nor did she trust Silas with anything more than a fork, but she did hear about a vampire helping the Dragonborn defeat some dangerous threats, despite the fact that, well, she was out there. 

She squared her shoulders. “Fine. I won’t fight her. Happy?” 

Silas’ face broke out into a grin. “Excellent. Serana, try and get back to sleep. Jase, do the same. We all need the rest for tomorrow’s journey south.”

The two women stopped glaring at one another to snarl at Silas. 

“She’s coming?” they said simultaneously, the two of them turning to glare at one another. 

He sighed, a faint smile rising on his face. “Find a way to deal with it. Goodnight”

He marched out of the room, the remnants of the door swinging closed behind him. 

The vampire sighed, leaning back against a wall. “I suppose” she murmured. “If Silas trusts you, that’s good enough for me.”

Jase gave a curt nod, before turning on her heel and walking away. The vermin could trust her all it wanted, but Silas’ word was not enough for her to trust that monster. She marched to the bedroom she was using for the night, collapsing onto it and passing out almost immediately, the strain of the last few days catching up to her. 

\----

When the morning came, she heard a thud, followed by a loud cry. Adrenaline forced the remnants of sleep out of her body, awakening her in a matter of seconds. She reached for her blade, before cursing again at her forgetfulness. 

She launched herself out of the bed, frost magic settling into her palm as she burst into the opposite room. Instantly she regretted it as she found the Jarl entwined with the Dragonborn, clearly taking the opportunity to have...relations.

She gagged, and strode out of the room. 

Before they left, she knew she had to get her sword back. It was almost guaranteed that she would need it, so she marched back to Castle Dour, hopefully to meet that guard again and get her sword back. 

The door was guarded by a different soldier, this time heavily armoured. She walked up to them, demanding her blade be returned to her at once.

The guard looked her up and down, the rough metal on his helmet making loud scraping noises as it rubbed against their chestpiece. 

“Fine” he grunted, and she noticed that he was of the Orsimer, an Orc. She swallowed, her nerves beginning to jump. 

He turned around, reaching into the door of Dour. After a few moments of reaching, he pulled her daedric blade out of the doorway. She smiled at the sight of it, and reached out for it.

The Orc grunted again, holding the blade back and raising a palm. “Ten gold” he growled, and Jase groaned. She reached into her pouch on her hip, pulling out ten gold pieces and throwing them at the Orc’s chest. 

The Orc grinned, revealing huge canines, and passed her the blade. Jase sighed, thankful for its return, before turning and walking back to Silas’ house. As much as she didn’t trust the man, she couldn’t stand by while something big was happening elsewhere. 

She knocked on the door, and it swung open, revealing Jordis. She glared at Janis, and stepped aside, allowing her entry into the manor.

She walked into the dining area, where Elisif sat, drinking a glass of what looked like milk. 

“They’re upstairs” she sighed, and went back to reading through several sheafs of paper piled high in front of her. 

Jase gave her a curt nod, before heading to the staircase. When she reached the top, she saw Silas and Serana poring over the map on the table. The black blade, Miraak’s blade, was mounted on Silas’ back, with Dawnbreaker on his hilt and the red blade resting against the table. The shield, Spellbreaker was leaning against the wall, and as she arrived Silas fixed her with a grin.

“So, Jase, I plan to send these artifacts onto Lakeview. However, before we head to Solstheim, we need to visit Labyrinthian. I have unfinished business there.”

Jase nodded before speaking. “And what unfinished business is that?”

Serana’s gaze hardened as she spoke. “Someone has stolen from him. We just received word from Markarth.”

“You have property in Markarth as well?” Jase asked, almost incredulous. The Dragonborn was richer than anyone she’d ever met, being able to afford so much land.

“Not exactly.” Silas responded. “I left an artifact in the mine they use as a prison when I was arrested. I hid it deep within the chasm, thinking no one would ever find it. But I had someone check for me, and it was gone. If we’re lucky, they don’t know what it is, and they’ll just sell it to someone else, and it will ultimately end up back with me.”

“And if we’re unlucky?” Jase asked.

“Then they’ll use it to unlock the most powerful safehouse in the province.”

Jase swallowed. “And what will that mean for Skyrim?”

Serana snarled. “It will mean death, unless we stop them.”

“So where are we going?” Jase asked, wary of the ramifications of this ‘artifact’.

SIlas sighed, running a palm over his face. 

“We’ll have to visit Markarth, just to be certain. Labyrinthian will stay secure while we’re checking, but just to be sure...”

His gaze drifted over to Serana, who stopped glaring at Jase and gave the high elf a small smile. 

“I’ll head over there. Should I expect anyone to be waiting for me?”

Silas beckoned her over, whispering into her ear. Jase only picked up on one word, “Nightingale”, and it angered her that she couldn’t make sense of it. 

Serana nodded, glared at Jase, and left the room. Silas smiled at Jase, who just scowled in response.

 

“What did you tell her?” she asked, voice flinty.

“Nothing you need to worry yourself about.”

A wave of anger washed over her, but she quelled it. Lashing out now would prove counterproductive, and she needed to save her strength.

“Let's go” she grunted, and strode out of the room, not waiting to see Silas’ response. The Dragonborn chuckled and grasped the reddened broadsword, before turning back into his bedroom.

Jase stomped down the stairs, the footfalls echoing around the house. It was a far cry from the stealth she was capable of, and purposely so. It meant few people expected her to be as light footed as she was, giving her the advantage. She powered past Jordis and through the open doorway, eyes squinting in the sunlight. 

When her eyes adjusted, she saw that a group of people were whispering amongst themselves and throwing her glances. For a moment, a small flame of curiosity made her wonder what they were talking about, before she realised she couldn’t care less. She had no intention to return to Solitude, nor was she dictated by people’s perceptions of her. However, she did like to have fun, so she turned her head and glared at the group, taking a step forward.

The gathering broke apart instantly, each person scattering in various directions. She allowed herself a small grin when Silas came to a stop next to her.

“It seems you have quite the effect on people” he murmured, his voice deep. Jase rolled her eyes, and grunted in response.

Silas shrugged. “We should probably get moving. The end of the world isn’t going to wait for us, Jase.”

She didn’t respond, instead marching towards the arch that lead to the main square and, by extension, the colossal gates that acted as both entrance and exit to the gem of Skyrim. 

Silas chuckled, and waved goodbye to his wife. Elisif waved back, her face a mask of sadness, as her husband followed Jase to the exit.

The two of them reached the exit slower than expected, with a large group approaching Silas and asking him all sorts of questions. He smiled, answering as many as he could, and as he drew near the gate he tossed a handful of coins into Noster’s helmet, who smiled a gap toothed grin at him.

“Talos bless you sir!” he called after the two of them, and Jase rolled her eyes and stifled a chuckle. 

“What?” Silas asked, a ghost of a smile showing on his face. 

“They follow you like cattle. The great Dragonborn. It’s entertaining.”

The smile dropped off his face. “The people of Skyrim are good people. Smart people. Most of them know more than I ever will, because they lived real lives. A privilege people like us were never afforded. Don’t speak ill of them.”

Jase shrugged. “You know nothing about me. Nothing.”

Silas stared at her for a moment. “You don’t have a family.”

She fought to keep the shock off her face. By the way his expression softened, she knew she’d failed, and scowled at him. 

“How?” she demanded.

Silas shrugged. “I felt a similarity between us. It could’ve been magick, or stealth, but I felt as though we had similar backgrounds. And I was right.”

Jase’s scowl deepened, and Silas chuckled. “I apologise. It’s not my place to assume.”

With that, he strode away, and Jase had to jog to catch up. The silence was heavy between the two of them as they approached the outer wall, and continued to permeate their air around them as they walked further and further from the city limits. Before it got any worse, she spoke.

“Are we not travelling by dragon?”

Silas smiled back at her. “I actually have a task to complete for the General. Allegedly, a Stormcloak camp has sprung up in Haafingar. I also figured that you would be able to demonstrate your ability more effectively. Shall we?”

He gestured over the ridge in front of them, and she stepped over, glancing down at the hastily strung together camp as several soldiers rubbed their hands together in an attempt to retain their warmth. 

“What’s the plan?” she whispered, turning to see that Silas had vanished. She scowled, and turned back, already working on her plan of attack. 

The quartermaster was directly below her, sharpening a wicked looking axe. He was distracted, and would quickly fall to a surprise attack. However, there was no way she could do it without alerting the rest of the rebels. She was quietly surprised that any still existed; after the fall of Ulfric, practically all the rebellion’s force had quickly scattered, returning to their normal lives. Her eyes darted from person to person, her mind quickly calculating the most efficient method of attack. An ice blast to the furthest one would distract them, allowing her to drop down and execute the quartermaster. If she was quick, she could vault the table and hurl some of his weapons at his allies before entering combat. 

She nodded to herself, and white mist began to pour from her palm as she readied a blast of ice. She counted down from three.

Two.

One.

She fired the blast, already dropping to the quartermaster as it connected with her target. She didn’t even glance to check, she had unshakeable faith in her abilities.

She landed on the man’s back, knocking him to the floor. Before he could respond, his neck was snapped and she was pulling the battleaxe from the table, spinning on her ankle and hurling it at the nearest guard. 

It connected with a wet smack, decapitating the target. The other soldiers turned, crying out in shock, and several more emerged from the tents. They all wore expressions of anger, and drew their weapons. Jase didn’t notice or care, she was already drawing her own sword and swinging towards the nearest guard.

He raised his mace in an attempt to block, but she knocked it aside, blasting him in the chest with ice and hurling him back. She allowed herself a small smile, before glancing up at her remaining combatants. 

Twenty of them stood there, weapons drawn and eyes angry. She faltered for a brief second, and they attacked. There was a brief moment of panic, before she forced it down, and allowed her instincts to take over. 

She blocked blow after blow, allowing her free hand to blast each assailant with as much magick as she could. Yet again, she grew angry at another of Silas’ tests. Where in Oblivion was he?

Then, as if on cue, a roar echoed from the forest behind them. Three of the guards turned to face the new attacker, only for a bolt of lightning to arc between the three of them, reducing them to ash. 

From the woods came Silas, a wicked grin on his face. He was flanked by two hulking constructs, one a colossal mass of ice, and the other made of rocks swirling around a cloud of lightning. 

“Atronachs.” one of the guards whispered, and the fight stopped altogether.

“Now, what are Stormcloaks doing so close to Solitude? You aren’t planning another resurgence, are you? Because all of Skyrim remembers how that went last time.”

The soldiers were shaking now, bowing their heads to Silas. Jase noticed a faint shimmer flickering across his skin, and a sudden realisation hit her. 

Not only was he summoning two of the most powerful creatures in Oblivion to fight for him at the same time, he had also cast a master level Alteration spell on himself. That degree of power was terrifying, even for her. She fought the instinct to kneel, the soldiers already prostrating themselves before him. 

He smirked at the kneeling Stormcloaks. “I was a friend of Ulfric. But even I know that Imperial rule is what will help Skyrim. Remember, you oppose them, you make me your enemy. Something I doubt you want to do.”

The Stormcloaks furiously shook their heads as Silas’ grin grew. He looked up to the heavens, and let out a crackling bellow;

“DURNEHVIIR!”

As he Shouted, a deafening thunder crack echoed across the land. Jase glanced up and saw the sky crack open, purple waves and fumes exploding outwards, filling the sky with azure purple energy.

A winged beast emerged from the crack, flying down to where the Stormcloaks kneeled. 

The dragon landed behind Silas, who’s grin grew even larger as the crack snapped shut. One of the soldiers began to cry, and Jase took the opportunity of them being distracted. She closed her eyes, and readied a more powerful version of her ice magic. She clenched her fist, allowing the wind to swirl around her hand as she created a blizzard. Small, focused, and deadly.

She unleashed it on the crowd of Stormcloaks, and it tore through their centre line, shredding their armour and tearing their flesh. The ones on the edges survived, but only long enough to see her sword swinging as she butchered every last one of them. 

She looked up at Silas, whose expression had switched from a smirk to completely impassive. He simply stared at her as she wiped her blade clean.

“They didn’t have to die.”

“Wrong.” she spat. “They were traitors. They would have betrayed the Empire again, and again. Rebels don’t give up. Ever.”

Silas sighed. The atronachs collapsed and dissipated into the wind, and he climbed onto the back of his dragon. Apparently, he had two now.

She climbed on behind him, but leaned back, avoiding the black blade he wore. He checked on her, before the dragon launched into the air, its destination, Markarth.


	6. Chapter Six

Arriving in Markarth was different to Solitude. The people didn’t revel in the presence of their saviour, instead ignoring him, and some even spat in his direction. Jase glanced to her companion, who wore a neutral expression. He didn’t offer any explanation as to why they regarded him with such distaste, instead striding towards the west side of the city. 

She was surprised by these developments, but refused to let it show. She’d never ventured far from Riften following her...escape, but she’d assumed everyone in the Province loved Silas, with a few exceptions here and there. She certainly didn’t expect an entire city to denounce him, and it almost warmed her heart. But then her mind wandered to what Silas must have done to these people, and her expression hardened. Maybe now the facade would fall, and she’d see the monster that Silas had to be. 

She followed the Dragonborn as he marched straight to a mine entrance. A sign outside read “Cidhna Mine”, and a shiver went down Jase’s spine. Even as far away as Riften, she’d heard the rumours about the mine, where prisoners were forced to work until they bled, and the silver was taken by the Silver-Bloods, and sold throughout Skyrim. She grimaced as they approached the door, where two heavily armoured guards stood stoically. 

One of them raised their hand at their approach, and Silas quirked an eyebrow. 

“You’re barring entry to me?”

“Last you were here, Dragonborn, you released a group of prisoners.”

Silas spat on the ground. “After I was imprisoned for exposing how corrupt your guardsmen were.”

The guard scowled. “Not many appreciate what you did. You upset the balance, things were fine before you arrived”

Silas furrowed his brow. “I need to get into the mine. Now.”

The guard glared at him, while his companion reached for his weapon. Jase allowed her hand to rest on the hilt of her blade as she levelled her stare at the other guard, almost daring him to attack. Before either side erupted into violence, Silas pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. 

“I am a Legate in the Imperial Army. I outrank you, guard. Open the damn gate, before my Legion descends on this city for treason.”

The guard swallowed, and nodded, stepping aside and allowing the two of them to enter the mine. 

Once they were a suitable distance from the entrance, Jase glanced over to Silas.

“I thought you hated leading”

Silas frowned. “I do. Which is why Tullius reassigned my Legion several years ago.”

“So you lied?”

He shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “If I’d been arrested, or worse, the entire city would’ve been burned to the ground. The guards knew this, but most of them are as dim as a cave troll.”

Jase raised an eyebrow, and Silas chuckled.

“Let’s just say, the Imperials aren’t the only group in Skyrim that...benefit from me being alive.”

Before she could ask, he marched ahead, hurling a ball of magelight at one of the walls, where it hovered gently and filled the steep corridor with light. 

The two of them went deeper into the mine, reaching the central section of the mine quickly. She could see plenty of prisoners in their cells, which were all on one side of the room. A few were milling around, some were digging the silver deposits, and all the while several brutish warriors glared at them from around the room. When Silas stepped in, all attention flicked to him. The guards regarded him with wariness, while the prisoners looked at him with almost hope in their eyes. 

He didn’t even glance their way, instead marching further into the mines. 

She followed quickly, ignoring the sweaty and groaning prisoners as they chipped away at the silver ore dotted around the cavern, and she caught up as he reached a heavy iron gate. He glanced at it before hunkering down in front of it, throwing a look over his shoulder. She raised an eyebrow, but before she could say a word there was a rattling, followed by a click, and the door swung open. Silas rose to his feet, quickly pocketing whatever he’d used to open the door, and stepped inside. 

Inside was a simple bed with a rotten wooden end table with a few books resting atop it. Silas ignored this, instead grasping the bed with two hands and hurling it into the wall. It splintered under the impact, revealing a hole that someone had dug underneath it. Silas groaned at the sight of it, closing his eyes. 

“So where did you learn to pick a lock like that? The Thieves Guild?” Jase probed, taking advantage of his disappointment.

He didn’t respond, his eyes still closed. 

“Because no beggar could teach you that level of skill. That’s the mark of a professional thief”

Silas sighed, and his eyes sprang open. “We have bigger problems, Jase. The mask is missing.”

Jase didn’t respond, instead crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. 

The Dragonborn ran a hand through his hair, stress beginning to show on his face. “It’s made out of wood, and whoever wears it in a specific point in Skyrim gets taken backwards through time to a moment that is locked. That’s where I’ve hidden the Dragon Priest Masks.”

Jase felt a prickling of fear at the base of her spine, but she ignored it. “The Dragon Priests are a myth. A legend. A story to tell children at night to keep them from going out.”

Silas shook his head. “They’re all dead. I killed every last one of them, and hid their masks. Except for one, which is currently on its way to Lakeview. We need to move, now.”

He didn’t wait for a response, immediately storming out of the ramshackle room. She jogged to catch up, stopping when she saw him pressing one of the guards against the wall, with his forearm pressing against their neck. 

“I asked you a question, cretin.” he growled. The guard spat in his face, and a look of fury overtook the Dragonborn. 

“FUS RO DAH!” he bellowed, a crack of thunder following his scream. A blue wave erupted from his open mouth, slamming into the guard’s head and pulverising it in an instant. Silas dropped the corpse to the floor, and wiped the blood off his forehead. Two guards warily approached him, drawing their weapons. They gradually closed in on both sides, Silas barely reacting to them. Jase glanced down to his clenched fist, and saw a light green light shining between the gaps between his fingers. One of the guards raised their weapons, and Silas opened his palm.

A burst of green energy emitted from it, and Jase saw a shimmer of energy overtake his body. When the guard swung down, Silas didn’t move, and the blade cracked against him. Instead of cleaving him in two, the sword bent around Silas’ body, and he gave the guard a humourless grin.

He pulled his own sword off his back, and the tentacles writhed at the presence of new targets. He swung the dark sword in a swift, downward motion, and it carved straight through the guard’s armour, tearing the man in two. 

Silas turned to face the other, who dropped his sword in fright. He turned to run, and died before he reached the exit. An arrow, ebony, had skewered him through the eye. He fell forwards, revealing a hooded woman. Jase reached for her blade, and Silas turned to look at her. He raised an eyebrow at Jase, as if to ask if she shot the arrow. She looked at him to tell him about the new arrival, when she noticed his eyes. 

They’d changed to a dark yellow.

She stepped back, drawing the sword in one swift motion. Silas blinked, and the yellow vanished. He turned to face the new arrival, already smiling. 

The hooded woman pulled the leather hood down, revealing tousled blonde hair. “Silas” she nodded, and Silas winked in response.

“Delphine. How are the Blades?”

Jase was almost surprised by the fact that the Dragonborn knew so many people, but she’d seen far less believable things in her time. 

“They’re doing well. I heard you might be needing help.”

Silas nodded, and turned back to Jase. “Sorry you had to see me like that. Sometimes I lose control of my anger. I’m sure you understand.”

Jase gave a swift nod, sheathing her weapon. Silas did the same, and the three of them stood for a moment, before the Dragonborn snapped to attention. 

“Delphine, gather as many Blades as you can. I need a small army if this is going to work. We need to get out of here.”

And he took off running, towards the exit of the mine. Delphine glanced around at the guards’ corpses, before following. Jase groaned, and she followed on behind them.


End file.
